Terrier  A Harry Evans Legend
by Marcielle's Musings
Summary: In a world where magical and muggle live together the Auror Dogs uphold the law within Hogwarts' capital city. Harry Evans is one of their newest trainees but Harry will have to learn fast because he's been assigned to Knockturn District, Republic City.
1. Chapter 1

**Book One: Terrier**

_**-A Harry Potter Fanfiction-**_

**Author: **Marcielle's Musings

**Summary:**

_In a world where magical and muggle live together, the Provost's Auror Dogs protect and uphold the law within Hogwarts' capital city. Harry Evans is one of their newest trainees – a Puppy wet behind the ears but eager to learn. But Harry will have to learn faster than he bargained for because he's been assigned to Knockturn District, Republic City's toughest and most dangerous district. It is filled with pickpockets who are as fast as lightning, rogues who will knock your teeth out or curse out your spleen with a smile, vampires and werewolves with a taste for human flesh and murderers that can't be seen or heard. In the constant battle for Knockturn District's streets and alleyways, Harry will have to use his head and his own strange brand of magic if he wants to survive._

_This is the beginning of Harry's story, his legend and his legasy..._

**A/N: **If you haven't guessed already, this is a Harry Potter and Beka Cooper Crossover. However this fanfiction won't be like any normal crossover; it will have the general plot of Beka Cooper but the characters of Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy this fanfiction and are inspired to read Beka Cooper: Terrier by the lovely Tamora Pierce if you haven't already.

Now, while I would love to jump straight into the story a few things have to be mentioned first. Within Beka Cooper there is an entirely different language (lingo) spoken, that while it is English some words aren't the same. There are also many grammar and spelling mistakes that **ARE ON PURPOSE! **because the people within the Knockturn District (Lower City within the book) are not the most educated people on the planet. In fact, many of them aren't educated at all other than what their parents teach them.

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_**From the Journal of**_

_**Mistress Lily Evans,**_

_**Mother of Harry Evans,**_

_**Resident of Lord Provost's House,**_

_**Palace Way and Ministry Way,**_

_**Republic City, The Realm of Hogwarts**_

_Novembur 13, 240 H.E._

_My hart is the betur for this day. When my Harry told me the snakes talked to him I feerd he was mad. I feerd my lady wood lok him up as my lady dos not lyk Harry. Harry mayks my lord lyk being a komun Dog to much._

_I thot to take Harry to my husbands mother. Granny Black wood no if ther was madness in his blud. So I tuk Harry ther today and left the little ones with Molly._

_Harry had meat skraps in his pokets and fed snakes all the way to Klover Lane. He says the snakes say where people was killed, robbed or kidnapped. I feerd somwon ov Provosts Hows wood see the meat and say he stole it._

_Wen I told Granny Black why we come Granny laffd._

_He is no mor mad than me, she says. Harry has the magikal Gift. Tho som say its not the Gift exakly. Its not biddebel. You hav it or you don't. Harrys father had it and his older sister and unkl befor him._

_I sayd a prayr to the Godess. My baybi boy is not mad. Gifted is not good but its beter than mad._

_Granny Black mayd Harry cleen her hows. Harry was coverd in dust. Granny Black told him, You can tickl the magik a bit. You need to, boy. Elswys the snakes will dryv you mad with tawk you only heer part way. Snake cary tawk of anythin and evrythin they heer. Them as died sudden, them dowsd for the coper in theyr pokets, them as had biznis to do, them as got merderd, them as got robbed Harry says._

_Snakes are the Trykster Gods mesingers, Granny says. They gathr gosip and informashon abowt the world to pass on to the God. And they talk. Som ov what they say is useful, Harry. Thats why you must lern how to heer theyr voyses. Hav you herd othr voyses, Harry? On street corners mayhap?_

_I dont no, says Harry._

_Lets go see, says Granny._

_We finishd cleening ferst bekaus Harry didnt finish by himself. Then Granny took us to a street corner but two bloks frum her hows. A dust spyner was ther, spyning leevs and dirt arownd and abowt lyk a small wirlwind._

_Yore fathr namd it Hasfush, Granny says. Or told us his name is Hasfush. Hes one ov the dust spynrs that nevur goes away. Step in and lissen Harry._

_Harry nevr argus with Granny Black. Onli with me. Into the spynr he walkd._

_What if he choaks? I askd._

_He wont, says Granny. He haz the Natrl Gift. Natrl magik in the ayr, grownd, watr and from animals is drawn to him._

_The dust spynr got small. Harry came owt evn mor ov a mess then he was befor. _

_I hav to wash him, I says. My lady will hav a fit._

_Harry lookd at Granny Black. Hasfush is alive he says. He told me everything he hurd. Then he got happi._

_Next tyme bring him dirt frum othr parts ov the citee, Granny Black says. Yer fathr sayd he lykd that. Lilly, send him to me in the afternoon. I wil teech Beka how to heer the beests and the dust spynrs and how to do som Natrl magik. Its writ down in a book ov the famlee._

_He can taym it and yuse it. The listning, speeking and magik. He isnt mad says Granny._

_I was so afeerd for my Harry. I know I wil die frum this rot in my chest. My childrun must mayk theyr own way then. Harry wil hav the hardist tyme. He was in Nokturn Distrikt for to long. Magik wil help. Evun frends that ar snakes and street wind and durt wil help._

_-Lily Evans-_

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><p><em><strong>From the Journal of<strong>_

_**Kingsley Shacklebolt,**_

_**Provost's Auror,**_

_**Resident of Rowan's Lodgings,**_

_**Botts Street, Diagon Alley District**_

_**Republic City, The Realm of Hogwarts**_

_November 13, 244 H.E._

_Tonight my lord Dumbledore took Tonks and me to supper at The Golden Goose. It was his way of thanking us for bringing down Bloody Barty – a cracknobed dark wizard. (I would have done more than hobble him and bring him for a court sentence. The scummer would rob a couple at wand-point, kill the man with the killing curse and then rape the woman while her man was lying there stone-cold dead in the dirt.)_

_It was our third supper at The Golden Goose. Me and Tonks could never afford the place on our own, but when we wind up big cases, we get a fine dinner there with my lord. So the wine was flowing well and there was brandy after supper. We were all feeling good and Tonks asks the thing we both always wanted to know: how did my lord manage to hobble the notorious Gellert Grindelwald and his followers six years back? Grindelwald was one of the most powerful and dangerous dark wizards ever to roam the streets of Republic City. Originally born and trained in Durmstrang, he greatly opposed the unification of the magical and muggle worlds within Hogwarts and made plans to create a world in which muggles would be subservient to the magical population instead of equals. In his quest for support and power he and his followers went about stealing from and attacking muggles all across Republic City. There was even talk that His Majesty was looking for a new Lord Provost. Then suddenly there was Grindelwald and his followers in magic-suppressing chains, my lord with new estates awarded by the King, and the Vice Provost transferred to a command on the Durmstrang border._

"_What stories did you hear?" my lord asks with that ever present eye-twinkle glimmering merrily, like he knows a very good joke._

_We tell the ones we heard most. One of Grindelwald's female followers caught her man with someone else. A palace mage lowered himself to Dog work to get revenge on Grindelwald and his followers for murdering his muggle wife and child. Grindelwald had killed some duke's muggle wife and child and the duke paid for the mages himself._

_My lord starts a-laughing and guffawing into his beard. "None of those are right," he says. "It was a little boy, only eight years old."_

_I look at my glass of brandy. "This stuff is better than the swill I'm used to," I say. "I could've swore you said Grindelwald and his followers got took down by an eight-year-old."_

_My lord nodded and says, "He took against one of them. He was living with his mama. When he found out his mama had lung rot, he cursed her and beat her up and took all she had of value. The boy Dogged him. Dogged him like you two would do it, kept out of his sight. If he lost him, he would just found him later at one of his favourite places."_

"_How'd he know the scummer would be worth all that work?" Tonks wanted to know. "Why not just stick a knife in him or curse him if he's got the magic?"_

_My lord says, "The bastard of a dark wizard gave the boy's mama jewellery he couldn't have come by honestly, then he took it back when he left."_

"_Yeah," Tonks says, "the boy's got to be from the Cesspool. Those Cesspool little ones know what kind of baubles belong down there and what don't."_

_My lord goes on. "So Harry – that's his name, Harry Evans – finally Dogs the dark wizard all the way back to where he met up with his mates. He spies on them and realises that he had found the lair of Grindelwald and his followers. Then he goes to his nearest Dog, only this Dog doesn't believe him."_

_Tonks mutters, "Probably Day Watch." My partner thinks the only Dogs worth bothering with work are the Evening Watch like us._

_My lord says, "So Harry goes to his kennel to try to tell them what he found, but they laugh at him. He even tried to tell my Vice Provost. He had the little boy tossed onto the street. The ducknob thought Harry was trying to witch him. Harry is no wizard, but he has these emerald-like eyes. When he's angry, it's like looking into the face of two killing curses. He was well and truly angry by then. It's unnerving in a little boy, but he can't help the colour of his eyes. So one day I'm riding through the Daymarket and this mite of a child grabs my Fawkes by the bridle. You know Fawkes – he doesn't like surprises. I almost drew my wand on him before I saw he was a child and how Fawkes calmed down and began to croon when the boy talked to him. He was telling me if I wanted to catch Grindelwald and his followers, I'd best listen to him. My Vice Provost looks ready to curse the boy. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm looking into the eyes of a thousand-year-old ghost or death itself. Unlike my Vice Provost, I'm not spooked. I listen to him. And he does it. He gives me the hiding place of Grindelwald and his followers. Then the little mite thinks he can just disappear, but I know a trick or two of my own. I track him until I find his home and family. The Evans are living in my household now."_

"_Meaning no disrespect, my lord, but why?" I ask. "A handful of Galleons shows you're grateful."_

_My lord shakes his head. "A mother with lung rot, and my best medi-wizards and witches say she can't be helped. It's too far along. Five bright, promising little ones – Harry is the oldest. All in some Mutt Piddle Lane midden. The mother's a hedgewitch and a herbalist on her good days, but those are going to run out. I'd begun to worry that Harry was already learning to steal and maybe learning some dark magic. His Majesty was about to find a new Provost and fire me. I owed that little death-eyed mite. Harry Evans saved me from disgrace. I think he'll make a good Dog when he's old enough. His little brothers and sisters will do well in the world if given the chance and his mother will die in comfort. I believe in thanking the gods for saving my position." My lord raises his glass. "I love being Lord Provost."_

_We raise ours. "We're glad to have you," Tonks says, her pink hair flashing. "Who else takes notice of the real Dogs to do the work?"_

_Now I can't get that story out of my head. Dogging a cove like that when he was only eight. I hope that if the boy does go for the Provost's Auror Guard that he doesn't think he knows all there is to know about what we do. He'll quit soon enough if he does. I hope my lord doesn't build him that way. He'll die of boredom and wash out before he's been in the work for a month. Or he'll think because he did it once, and did it when he was young, that he knows it all. Then he'll just get himself killed, and maybe any other Dog who are with him, too._

_-__Kingsley Shacklebolt-_

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><p><strong>AN: **I hope you like the Prologue for this Beka Cooper/Harry Potter crossover. Now before you all start complaining about horrible spelling and grammar... This fanfiction is written in the same writing style of the Beka Cooper books (bad spelling and grammar too) therefore, if you think that it will be too large of an issue for you to deal with, then feel free to stop reading.

However, all I ask is that you read chapter one before/if you quit reading this fanfiction because Harry is a much better writer than his mother and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Feel free to click the review button and tell me what you think!

-Marcielle-


	2. Chapter 2

**The Journal Of**

**Harry Evans**

**Provost's Trainee Auror,**

**Resident of Mistress Trout's Lodgings,**

**Nipcopper Close, Knockturn District**

**Republic City, The Realm of Hogwarts**

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><p><em><strong>Wednesday, April 1, 246 H.E.<strong>_

_**Written on the morning of my first day of duty.**_

I have decided to write this journal as a record of my year as a Puppy. Should I survive my first year as a Puppy, I hope that it will give me good practice for writing reports when I am a proper Dog. By writing down as much as I can remember word for word, especially in talk with folk about the city, I will keep my memory exercises sharp. Our trainers told us that we must always try to memorise as much as we can and as exactly as we can. _Your memory is your record when your hands are too busy. _That was one of our training sayings.

For my own details, to make a proper start, I am short for my age. I own only five feet and eight inches while most other coves my age tower above me. I have good shoulders and strong arm muscles, though I am a bit on the slender side – not bulky like. While short I may be, my legs can carry me faster than any mot or cove I know. I have worked curst hard to make it so, in the training yard where we practiced manoeuvres and dodges and on my own. Every morning for the past year I would run as fast as I could, lengthening my stride as I ran to training every morning.

As a boy I was often teased for having a mot's face – mum called it a noble's face. She says I got it from my da and his family. I have high cheekbones and a straight nose that fits my face. My sister Diona says that when they have been broken flat several times I won't have to worry about being called pretty any longer. (My sisters do not want me to be an Auror.) My eyes are emerald-green in colour. Some like them. Others hold them to be unsettling. I like them, because the work for me. My teeth are good and straight not all over the place like some of the brawlers and mumpers I've seen. My hair is a very messy dark brown which looks black when it's dark out or it's wet. It sticks up at every which angle. Mum says my colouring makes me look exotic – I think it just makes me look girly.

I am so eager for five o'clock and my fist watch to begin that my writing on this page has become shaky, not neat as I have been taught. My thoughts are all over the place. I must be sure to write every bit of this first week of my first year above all. For eight long year of living with Lord Dumbledore I have waited for this time to come. Now it has. I want a record of my first seeking, my training Dogs and every bit of work. I will be made a Dog sooner than any Puppy has ever been. I will prove I know more than any Puppy my very first week.

It is not vanity. I lived in the Cesspool for the first eight year of my life. I stole. Then, when I went to live with Lord Dumbledore and his family I studied everything my Lord Provost would teach me about Dog work. For three of those eight year I ran messages for the Provost's Dogs from one side of Republic City to the other, before I went into official Dog training. I know Knockturn District better than I know the faces of my brothers and sisters, better than I know my mother's face. I will learn the rest quicker than any other Puppy. I even _live_ in Knockturn District again, on Nipcopper Close. None of the other trainees assigned to Jane Street kennel do. (They will regret that choice when they must walk all the way home at the end of their watch!)

Hedwig says I count my fish before they're hooked. I tell Hedwig that if I must be saddled with a pure white, golden-eyed talking cat, why must it be a cynical one? She is to _stay home_ this week. I will not be distracted by this strange yet loyal creature who has been my friend since I was eleven years. And I will not have my Dogs distracted by her. They will ask all manner of questions about her, for one – questions that I cannot answer and she will not.

My greatest fear is not that I will cave under pressure – I do very well in combat and other high pressure situations – but that people will stare at me and that I won't be able to keep up with my Dogs because they're magic folk. Because of my looks people stare. They all think I'm mad for joining the Auror Guard when I'm not a proper magic folk. I inherited some magic from my parents but it is not the normal type of magic. I can't even use a wand. Instead, Granny Dorea Black says that I have Natural Magick – an affinity for living things and the magic within them.

I am assigned to the Jane Street kennel. The Watch Commander this year of 246 H.E. is Rufus Scrimgeour. I doubt that I will ever have anything to do with him. Most Dogs don't. Our Watch Sergeant is Madam Amelia Susan Bones, my training master in magical combat and the fiercest and fairest mot I have ever met. We have six Corporals on our watch and twenty-five Senior Aurors. That's not counting the cage Dogs and the Dogs who handle the scent hounds and magic trackers. We also have a mage on duty, Pettigrew. The creepy stuck up son of a silk merchant who bought his way into mage training – not that he's very good. Most normal witches and wizards in Knockturn District, who only learnt what their parents could teach them, are better at magic than Pettigrew. Wormtail, we Puppies call him for his sleezy rat-like nature. I plan to have nothing to do with him, either. The next time he puts one of his grubby sweaty paws on me I will break it, mage or not.

There is the sum of it. All that remains is my training Dogs. I will write of them, and describe them properly, when I know who they are.

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><p><em><strong>Written at day's end after my first day of duty.<strong>_

As the sun touched the rim of the city wall, I left my lodgings on Nipcopper Close and walked to Jane Street kennel. For our first day of proper Dog duty, we Puppies had no training before duty. I could enter in a fresh, clean uniform. I had gotten mine from the old clothes room at my Lord Provost's house. I wore the summer black tunic with short sleeves, black lace-up breeches and black boots. I had a woven leather belt with a coin purse hidden in its folds, whistle, paired daggers – the proper dueling type, a lead filled baton – no wand since I couldn't use it anyway, water flask hooked to my belt and rawhide cords for prisoner taking. I was kitted up like a proper Dog and ready to bag me some Rats.

Some of the other Knockturn District trainees were already there. Like me they wore a Puppy's white trim at the hems of our sleeves and tunic. None of us know if the white trim is to mark us out so Rats will spare us or so they will kill us first. None of our teachers would say either.

I sat with the other Puppies. They greeted me with gloomy downtrodden faces. None of them wanted to be here, but each district gets its allotment of the year's trainees. My companions, unlike me, feel like they drew the short straw. There is curst little pay or glory here in Knockturn District. Unless you're a veteran Dog or a friend of the Rogue, the pickings are Knuts at best. And Knockturn District is rough. Everyone knows that of the Puppies who start their training year in Knockturn, half give up and quit or are killed in the first four months.

I tried to look as glum as the others to keep them company – and to fit in to be honest. They are grumbling because I _wanted _to work in Knockturn District and Jane Street kennel in particular.

Madam Bones took her place at the tall Sergeants' desk. We all sat up in attention. We'd feared her in training – all of us. She is a short stocky mot whose family had been in law enforcement since the beginning of the Provost's Auror Guard. She is the toughest mot I've ever met and he combat lessons were always more like a ritualistic beating than training but she sure made fast fighters of us.

She nodded to the Evening Watch Dogs as they came on duty, already in pairs or meeting up in the waiting room. Some looked at our bench – Puppy bench – and grinned. They were probably thinking _Fresh Meat_. Some nudged each other and laughed as they looked at us. We knew we were the runts of the litter. They didn't need to rub it in. My classmates just hunkered down, enduring the taunts, looked miserable.

"They'll eat us alive," my friend Ron whispered in my ear from his place next to me. He was the second youngest child of the Weasley family. The youngest boy in the family and the most picked on and teased by his five older brothers. All but one of his older brothers went on to become Aurors with good names in other districts but Ron got assigned Knockturn. There is no such thing as a _good name _in Knockturn. "I think they sharpen their teeth" he groaned.

"Being a muggle healer like my parents wouldn't have been so bad." said Hermione, who had come in after me and was now sitting on my other side. "Go on, Harry – give em' one of them death glares of yours."

Hermione was another of my fellow Puppies. And unlike the most of the other trainees she is a muggle-born witch. She joined the Auror Guard so she could learn to use her magic because if she hadn't, no one would have taught her.

I looked down. Though I am reasonably comfortable with my fellow Puppies, I wasn't comfortable with the Dogs or with some of the folk who came in with business in the kennel because out of all the Puppies I'm the only one who can't use a wand. Some of them think I'm suicidal for choosing Knockturn. They say I'll get cursed by some dark witch or wizard or a Rat that don't want to get caught. I agree with them, I must be mad to want to work in the toughest district without normal magic to protect myself with. None of them know about my Natural Magick abilities and I plan on keeping it that way. Natural Magick is looked down upon, viewed as freakish and abnormal.

"You hate the smell of stewing herbs and other medicinal gunk," I told Hermione. "That's why you went for a Dog. And leave my glares out of it."

Since Madam Bones was at her desk, the Watch commander was already in his office. He'd be going over the assignments, choosing the Dog partners who would get a Puppy or just agreeing to Bones' choices. I asked the Mother Goddes to protect this litter of Puppies and to give Ron someone who would understand that his personality didn't make him weak. Hermione needed a smart pair of Dogs who would talk to her straight and not look down on her because of her heritage. And me?

Goddess, Mithros – heck even Trickster, let my Dogs be good at their work and not look down on me for not being able to do normal magic, I begged.

Who would I get? I know who I _wanted._ There were three sets of partners who were famous for their work. I nervously crossed my fingers for luck and hissed quietly in the serpent tongue "Please let me get good Dogs."

Outside the kennel, the market bells chimed the fifth hour of the afternoon – the end of the Day Watch and the beginning of the Evening Watch. Dogs going off duty lined up before Bones' desk, their Puppies at their backs, to muster out. When Madam Bones dismissed them, they were done for the day. Their Puppies, six of our classmates, sighed with relief and headed out the door. Before they left they told us what we were in for, each in their own fashion. Some gave us a thumbs-up. A couple mimed a hanging with a weary grin while one just refused to talk – that one spooked me the most. I just looked away. What was so hard for them? They'd had Day Watch. Everyone knew that the Evening Watch got the worst sorts in Knockturn District.

With the Day Watch gone, Madam Bones called out the names of a pair of Dogs. They'd been lounging on one of the benches. When they looked up at her, she jerked her thumb at the Commander's door. The Dogs settled their shoulders, checked each other's uniforms, then went inside. I knew them. My lord Dumbledore had commended them for their services twice.

Once the door was closed behind them, Madam Bones looked at us. "Puppy Ron Weasley. You're assigned to those two Dogs for training. Step up here."

Ron gulped, the rose slowly from our bench to the whistles and applause from the veteran Dogs. I brushed the dirt and lint off his clothes before clasping his wrist and whispering with a conspiring smile "You'll do fine. Don't worry. Now get up there"

Hermione kissed his cheek and wished him luck and our fellow trainees clapped him on the back or shook his hand. Then Ron tried to walk across the room like he was confident he could do the job – head held high and chest puffed out – in front of twenty ordinary folk and the Dogs of the Evening Watch.

We all watched with bated breath as Ron came to attention before Madam Bones' desk. She looked down her short nose at him – probably meant to make him feel small. "Stop that. Relax." She barked. "The Commander's giving them the speech, about how they're not to break you or dent you or toss you down the sewer without getting permission from me first." She continued with a roguish grin down at Ron.

The other Dogs in the room laughed. One of them called, "Don't sweat it, lad. We're all just workin' Dogs down here."

"They keep the honour and glory and pretty gixies for the Unicorn District." That Dog was a woman whose face was marked crossways by a scar.

One of them said, "Up there, the fountains run rose water. Here they run –"

"- piss!"" cried the Dogs. It was an old joke I had heard many times in Knockturn District.

The Commander's door opened. Out came the two Dogs. They looked resigned. The heavyset one beckoned to Ron. "Heel, Puppy. Let's get our glorious partnership rolling. You don't say nothin', see? We talk, you listen." He then clamped a thick heavy hand covered in scars on Ron's shoulder and steered him to the door.

Madam Bones called, "Remember, tomorrow you puppies report an hour early for combat training before your watch. No more easy starts like today!"

Ron's Dogs closed the door to the kennel behind them as they left and Madam Bones called for a new Dog pair to see the Commander. The rest of us Puppies were instructed to wait while one of our number was called up to Bones' desk to wait for his training Dogs. It was a cove named Seamus Finnigan's turn. I didn't particularly like him much. He was one of the folks who teased me during training for not having magic. He barely has it himself. His mama's a witch and his da's a muggle and because of that he can use a wand. Not very well but he could still use one, unlike me.

While we waited for the Dogs to collect Seamus, a citywoman called out, "Sarge? Be there word of who left old Crookshanks' great-grandbaby dead in the gutter?" We all looked at her. She was here to visit a man in the Rat cages out back, mayhap. She had five little ones with her. She must have feared there was some killer out there and had refused to leave them at home.

Bones shook her head. "There is no news, mistress. If you're scared for your own, I'd counsel you to let go of your fear. Crookshanks is the evilest pinchpenny scale and landlord in all of Knockturn District. He buys for knuts what's valued in galleons. If one of the firetraps he calls houses, burns with a mother in it, he sells the orphans for slaves. He's got more than enough enemies. Any of them could have strangled that poor little one."

"Aye, but no one kills women and children," muttered a gruff lookin' Dog. "They're no part of the business."

Madam Bones glared at the Dog who'd spoke. "We'll catch the Rat and flay him alive, but I'll bet anyone here that Crookshanks drove some poor looby to Cracknob Row. Your little ones are safe, mistress."

It's true; Crookshanks is the most hated man in Republic City. It's true also that family is off-limits if they aren't in your enemy's line of work. To kill a rival's child kin is to become an outlaw.

"I'll wager the ol' scale's got the best to seek the lad's killer," a cove in the audience said. "Come on, Sergeant. Who'd Crookshanks buy special t' get put on the murder? I heard he got teams on each watch out seeking."

"He did, not that it's any of your business," Madam Bones said to the cove, not looking up from her writing.

"Who's it on _this _watch?" someone else called.

Sergeant Bones looked up with a heavy scowl, lookin' ready to tell these folk to hold their tongues. It was old Alastor Moody who spoke up, "Why, me and Longbottom, good cityfolk."

Everyone stared. Doubtless even the cove who had first asked knew that Longbottom's little sister had hung herself but three months back. Her husband had sold her to slavers at the docks to pay of his debts to Crookshanks. She had killed herself in the slave pens – not wanting to be shipped away or sold as a sex slave but also probably hurting at the betrayal. Moody and Longbottom would never sweat to seek Crookshanks' grandbaby's killer, no matter how much his great-grandda paid in bribes. The Dogs picked to hunt the boy's killer from the Night and Day Watches were also Dog's with a grudge. Crookshanks had so many enemies he didn't even know them all.

While Bones read out the names of the fourth pair of Dogs to see the Commander, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks came in. I watched quietly from my seat as the leisurely walked through the rows of seated Dogs and fond a patch of wall to lean on. Of the three good pairs here in Jane Street kennel, they were the _best._ Shacklebolt was a Corporal, and Tonks was a Senior Auror. Those two could have had any posting in all of Republic City, but they chose to stay in Knockturn District.

One night, my lord Dumbledore had invited them to supper for a task they'd done really well. I hid in the drapes of the little supper room at Provost's House to hear the legends talk. Lord Dumbledore offered them a place in Manor District's kennel, but they had refused. Tonks said, "Shack and me, we know Knockturn District. The worst ones know our methods and our fighting styles. The people of the Court of the Rogue have even memorised our bootprints, bless their silly cracked heads. Not that it would help them with me being a metamorphmagus and all. Knockturn - for all its faults, suits us, don't it, Shack?"

And Shacklebolt, he just chuckled.

"The pickings are richer elsewhere." My lord Dumbledore was amused by Tonks' antics, I could hear it. "The Happy Bags of bribes for the kennels are fatter and richer in other districts."

"We're humble folk," Shacklebolt said. He had a deep velvety voice that dripped of his tongue like honey. "We like humble pickings. And the bones that come from the Rogue's Happy Bags are rich enough."

I knew that I would never get assigned to them. They didn't get Puppies.

Shacklebolt and Tonks gossiped and laughed with their friends among the Dogs as other pairs came out with a Puppy. The Knockturn District veterans are a hard pack of mutts, wearing metal throat protectors (called collars by Rats) and metal-ribbed arm guards as well as the regular uniform. Even other Dogs are wary of these folk, respectful of their ability to stay alive when almost every dark witch and wizard and muggle Rat is out for their blood.

I _would_ be the last one called. My luck in these sorts of situations is infamous. I looked around as my last year mate left with his Dogs. Nervously, I wiped my sweating hands on my breeches. Then I nearly swallowed my own tongue as Sergeant Bones called out, "Tonks and Shacklebolt."

"No!" Shacklebolt looked at me, his brown eyes sharp as they stared down at me. "No. _No. _We don't get Puppies. We don't _like _Puppies. No offence, whoever you are. We have _never _had a Puppy."

"You're past due, then." said Bones, not even a scrap of sympathy in her eyes. "Your luck just ran out."

Shacklebolt headed into the Commander's office like a snake ready to strike at prey. Tonks just leisurely ambled after her partner.

They are a mismatched pair. Corporal Shacklebolt is a dark skinned wizard who stands at about six foot three with long arms, legs and deep-set brown eyes and a long, slightly-curved nose. I think he looks like a hawk for all I compared him to a snake, just moments ago. He is quite popular with mots. His head is completely shaved free of hair. No hair on the top of his head, no moustache and no beard. People said that he'd put down a Durmstrang berserker of a wizard when he'd killed three men in a fight. Just him and his baton - not even bothering to pull out his wand. He's been a Dog for twenty years and had been partnered with Tonks for thirteen of those twenty.

Senior Auror Tonks meanwhile, is two inches shorter than me. She is built strong, wears her bubblegum pink hair cut short in small spikes. She has a small beak of a nose and full lips. Tonks is funny and easygoing for a Dog. Tonks also has a peculiar family magic called metamorphism. She essentially is a shape-shifter and can use her magic to transform into any person or animal. She has often used this ability to impersonate Rats so that Shacklebolt and her could catch even bigger Rats. She could be a Watch Commander , even a Captain if she wanted to be. So could Shacklebolt. Neither of them want it.

"Harry Evans."

From the laughter in the room, I could tell that it wasn't the first time Sergeant Bones had called my name. I slowly got up from my seat on the bench and went to stand before the desk. She looked down at me.

"Don't let them rattle you," she advised. "You've got the best. That's the _only _extra chance I wrangled for you. And if you're smart, you won't depend on your _other _connections high up to grease your way."

I looked down to hide my glare. As if I would ask for help from Lord Dumbledore!

"Better not be cooing _our _tales in his ear, neither." said a Dog seated in amongst the crowded kennel benches.

"He never did when he was a runner. I know he saw plenty and heard plenty then. He had three _years'_ worth of chances to tattle to my Lord Provost." Snapped Moody at the Dog who had first spoken. "Never you worry about lil' Harry."

I just continued to glare at the floor. I _hate _being talked about. Meanwhile, everyone in the main room of the kennel could hear shouting behind the Commander's closed door. I could tell by the sound of the voice that it was Shacklebolt who wasn't happy.

Eventually Shacklebolt and Tonks walked out of the Commander's office, slamming the door behind them. I added another prayer to my string of them. I wanted to survive my Dog partners. Glowering, Shacklebolt came up to me and looked me over. "I have two rules for you, Puppy"

Lifting my gaze from the floor I stared into his eyes. I could tell that they had unnerved him slightly.

"Speak when you're spoken to and keep out of my way." He finished before he turned to glare at Tonks who had finally joined us. "All right? Time to start the babysitting detail."

Tonks just smiled at me, ignoring the glare her partner sent her way. "Come on Puppy Evans." she chirped merrily.

I followed them outside. I wasn't going to tell Shacklebolt that I well knew the rules to follow with our training Dogs: _Speak when you're spoken to. Keep out of the way. Obey all orders. Get killed on your own time._ I did have some measure of self-preservation. It was small but it was still there.

"Practice tomorrow at four!" Madam Bones called after me. "Every day you have street duty, Evans!"

Between the kennel door and Jane Street gate is the courtyard where message runners and people with business at the kennel wait. The crowd waiting in the courtyard was bigger than usual. They knew that Puppies were being assigned to their Dogs today and wanted to see who got what. The noise they made when they saw Shacklebolt and Tonks with a trainee was deafening: whistles, laughter, and plenty of comments about how small I was for a boy and even more about my appearance.

I tried not to listen. I just stared at my Dogs backs as we passed through the gate. In the shadows next to the gate I saw a flash of white before it disappeared. Next thing I knew, the white blur came over to walk with me.

"Hedwig," I muttered under my breath towards my wayward cat. Quietly so Shacklebolt and Tonks wouldn't hear me. "Shoo girl! I've got work to do. Go away!"

Pox and murrain, she never listens! I told her that I would be busy this week and that she would have to find something else to occupy her time. The curst cat _always _finds me. I'd lock her in, folly though it was. I had shuttered the windows and barred them, and locked my door. I had made sure that she was inside – I heard her scratching at the door and yowling angrily as I ran down the stairs. Eventually she always gets out, but I'd hoped that she'd take the hint and leave me be! If only for this week!

"I'm on duty!" I hissed at her with a glare.

"I'd best not be hearing noise from you, Puppy," Shacklebolt called over his shoulder.

I shut up, not wanting to anger my Dogs and flapped my hands at Hedwig. She just ignored me and continued walking at my side, dratted annoyingly obstinate creature that she is. Normal stupid cats stay home when their locked in. Not Hedwig. She takes every locked door as merely a challenge to her progress. I wouldn't have this problem if she was a normal cat.

"Tonks, why is there a cat following us?" Shacklebolt asked. "I don't want to be falling over some stray white cat."

Hedwig bristled indignantly at that comment.

"It's not a stray, Shacklebolt. The little fur-ball wears a collar." Tonks bent down and scooped up Hedwig from the ground. I glared at my cat, silently daring her to kick up a fuss or to scratch or bite. Instead my contrary princess turned her whiskers forward in a cat's smile, and let Tonks scratch her under her chin. Hedwig didn't even struggle when Tonks halted in a patch of fading sunlight to inspect her.

Then she saw Hedwig's eyes. "Mithros. Shacklebolt, look."

Shacklebolt looked at Hedwig's eyes and swore. It's about half and half, who swears and who talks religion, when they see Hedwig's face. I can't blame them. I nearly fell out of the stable loft at my Lord Dumbledore's house when I found a kitten with bright intelligent gold eyes without any whites in them.

"Are you a goddess?" Tonks asked Hedwig.

"Manh!" my smug little cat said. She added a few sounds like _mrt, _as if to prove her catness. For once they even sounded like normal cat noises to me. So many of her cat noises sound like human speech to me. But maybe that is just my magick acting up.

"If she's a goddess, she chooses not to say," Shacklebolt said.

"She wears Evans' collar," said Tonks as she spied the leather collar around Hedwig's neck. "Do you have a magical kitty cat, or a kneazle, Puppy Evans?" she asked me, raising an eyebrow at my silence. "You may answer."

Silently I just shook my head. She's just Hedwig, I wanted to say. She's smart and a little bit odd for a cat but you get used to her ways. But the words were stuck in my throat. I'm not normally this quiet but for some reason I just couldn't speak today. I never was that great at talking to new people – I was always better if I had something to do to take my mind off it.

"_His _cat?" Shacklebolt looked at Hedwig's collar. "And with those eyes, she's not magic?"

Ignoring the conversation going on around her, my soon to be sold for dumpling-meat cat reached up and patted Shacklebolt's nose gently with the pad of her paw. "Stop that, you." But he smiled when he said it, and he scratched Hedwig behind the ears. Hedwig rubbed her head against his hand like _he _was the one who spent precious knuts on meat that _he _chopped for her _himself._

"You brought your _cat?_ Speak up, trainee." Shacklebolt asked, taking his hand away from Hedwig's head and staring at me. "Did you bring her to the kennel?" He continued to ask as he lifted Hedwig from Tonks' hold.

"No, sir." I answered – making sure to look him in the eye as instructed. I didn't think I could call him 'Dog' without permission, or even 'Shacklebolt'.

"She followed you here, then?" Shacklebolt's long fingers were brisk but affectionate behind Hedwig's ears. The little traitor just looked at me and then wrapped her forelegs around his neck.

"It appears so, sir." I mumbled embarrassedly.

"Clever kitty," said Tonks with a grin in my direction.

After one final scratch behind the ears, Shacklebolt put Hedwig back on the ground. "You, scat. Your boy has work to do. Hard work... staying out of my hair."

"Shack, you don't have any hair." quipped Tonks with a grin in the tall man's direction.

Shacklebolt just glared at his partner and started to walk off.

I glared at Hedwig and thought – _I have work to do girl! Go home! – _while pointing in the direction of our lodgings, hoping she would get the message. She probably would but whether or not she would listen is another matter entirely. Obediently she trotted across the street but not after affectionately batting her paw against my leg as if to say – _fine, go play Puppy-dog. I'll just sit over here and watch to make sure you don't get into any trouble._

As we walked down the dimly lit street people greeted my Dogs from doorways and stalls, wanting to know who the Puppy was. I hung my head, trying to make myself as small as possible and wishing that I could turn invisible as the shoppers and stall owners laughed and shouted their offers to buy me or play with me. I wasn't good with all of this attention. I'm the type to hide in the background not play at the forefront. Luckily Tonks wasn't as shy as me when it came to crowds and came to my defence.

"But he's _our _Puppy, Inknose. If we let him fetch you, she'd just hurt you." She directed at one of the low level thugs that was lounging against one of the stalls.

"Leave the poor boy alone, Wildberry. He's not up to playing with you and you're sisters." Tonks smirks at one of the Doxies lounging about provocatively on the steps of the brothel.

"Shut up, Flint. You ain't paid the Dogs for the last batch of Puppies you sold in Durmstrang!" she barked at a skinny cove eating an apple-fritter.

In between her remarks to the passersby, Tonks began explaining things to me. "Since we're a senior pair, Evans, we have no particular fixed route. Three nights a week, starting tonight, we roam the Nightmarket and Knockturn District between Rovers Street and Daemon Lane, Northgate and Thestral. That's Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. We go where there's likely to be trouble and see if we can't wreak some havoc on some Rat's plans. Thursday and Saturday we're in the Cesspool, Thestral Street to Mulberry and Cherry Orchard. We do our own seekings unless assigned one by Bones, we get papers when we need help on a seeking, and we have our flocks of Birdies who give us what we need in order to seek. And if we have aught that's good, we wander off our wanderings. Shack? Aught to add?"

Shacklebolt looked at his shorter partner. "I'm bored."

Tonks looked at Shacklebolt incredulously. "And you say _I'm _overenthusiastic about baggin' Rats. At least I know how to train a Puppy. Halt right there, Puppy Evans. Look about you. What do you see?"

It was just too easy. Not ten feet away a pickpocket was moving in on a woman selling pickles. I let my odd sort of magic flow and reached out my senses. I put my hand on my baton, but before I could take any action Shacklebolt slid out from behind Tonks and I and over to the Rat like oil on water. He laid his baton gentle-like on the boy's hand just as the Rat touched the mot's purse. The Rat looked up and Shacklebolt shook his head. The pickle woman started to shriek and hit the thief. Shacklebolt pushed the boy out of the way, gave the pickle woman a smile and passed her a knut. "How about one of your lovely lookin' pickles, sweetheart?"

You would never know that not two minutes ago he was grouching about being bored. And like anyone in Knockturn District she got distracted by the prospect of business. When the mot started to fish for a pickle in the barrel at her side, Shacklebolt raised his baton from the lad's hand. The pickpocket ran.

Shacklebolt traded his knut for a pickle with a bow and took a bite of his snack with a grin to the woman.

"Oh, get on, you. No wonder they call you lads Dogs, thinkin' you can charm an old hag like me with a wag of your tail!" The pickle seller bridled and blushed, then tucked the coin away and headed down the street. There was a new twitch in her hips. I'd wager she'd be givin' her husband an extra-warm night, thinking of the tall Dog who had flirted with her.

It seemed as if, under Shacklebolt's serious exterior was a playful side.

"If her husband comes looking for you, _I _won't be your second, not after the last time." Tonks nudged him in the stomach with her elbow. "I stood there like an idiot while you made the cove laugh so hard at your jokes he ended up buying all of us breakfast. Some duel _that _was. Not one spell went flying and I was so hoping for a good duel."

"Well, I didn't curse him or kill him, and the cove didn't want to curse or kill me. Everyone was satisfied. Well, except maybe the seconds." Shacklebolt replied

Tonks just rolled her eyes before looking at me, "Now, Puppy, you saw him. That's good. You'd've made a fuss – maybe not so good. What grade pickpocket was he?"

Great Mithros, a training question. I scrambled about in my brain searching for the answer. Then I remembered and met Tonks' eyes. "He'd no knife, so he was a true pickpocket. Slow as he is, he probably won't live to be a master pickpocket."

Tonks nudged me. "And what's the street word for 'master pickpocket'?"

"'Foist,' mam," I replied.

"So the boy knows the words," Shacklebolt muttered. "So what?"

Oh great. Shacklebolt was back to being grumpy. It looks like his playful nature before was all an act.

Hearing his relpy, Tonks shook her head and elbowed Shacklebolt in the gut. "Stop being such a grumpy-guts, old man." And then she turned to me, "Now you, we don't go around makin' a fuss for minnows, Puppy. I don't like standing before the Magistrate any more than necessary. It's less time spent out here looking for truly dangerous folk."

That made sense. I nodded at Tonks and then looked down and saw that Hedwig had returned to sit at my feet. I tried to gently nudge her away with my boot but she remained steadfast.

"Come on," said Shacklebolt. "The evening's young, and I was thinking we should pay Crookshanks a visit. I'd like a word with him about that load of pink pearls that went missing off of Gemstone Mews. If the old scale is as half cracked by grief as they say, then mayhap he'll get careless in his talk."

I _did _look up then. He was grinning, with all his teeth on show and a fierce expression on his face. His teeth were strong and white, like the wolves' in the royal menagerie.

"Now, Shack, that's not nice," Tonks told him with an eerily similar grin which betrayed her true thoughts. "He's deep in mourning for little Hugo." Quick as a snake, she looked back at me and asked, "Puppy, who's Crookshanks?"

She had startled me, so I answered without thinking – I always do perform better under pressure. "He's the biggest of the Nightmarket scales. Owns a piece of most of what's lifted and half of the luxury goods, minimum. A quarter of the loaner trade and he's got about twenty buildings in the Cesspool and twenty more in the greater Knockturn District." I suddenly swallowed and remembered where I was and who I was speaking to. "Guardswoman..."

"What do you expect, Dora?" demanded Shacklebolt. "He's lived in my lord Dumbledore's pocket for eight years. He had to have picked up _something_ even if he was completely stupid. Knowing isn't the same as doing." He finished before walking out into the crossing of Gibbet Corner and Feasting Street, where stalls filled the huge square before us. We had finally come to the Nightmarket.

Stalls selling all sorts of mundane and magical goods were covering almost every inch of space within the square and small paper lanterns with enchanted fire burned brightly, illuminating every stall and its wears.

Following after my Dogs I thought about what Shacklebolt's comment had revealed. They both had known of me before I was assigned to be their Puppy. Did they know I was friends with Crookshanks' granddaughter-in-law Ginny, and my mama with his daughter-in-law Annis? Probably not, but should I tell my Dogs...

Trotting to catch up with them, I changed my mind. They didn't really need to know. It was very unlikely that Ginny would come out to say hello to visitors, if Aurors could rightly be called visitors. She hadn't left the house since her baby Hugo was found dead. I could tell Shacklebolt and Tonks I had friends in Crookshanks' household later, when we were off the streets.

The Nightmarket was stirring up for business. The lanterns and torches had just been lit as the sun had just slid behind the wall in Knockturn District, making it darker earlier. Plenty of folk were still at their daily work. This was considered quiet time. Buyers and sellers were talking among the stalls, collecting gossip, beginning to cook, adjusting wares and weapons. It's my favourite time to be in the Nightmarket.

We walked along down the aisles. Stall vendors and market regulars called greetings to Tonks and Shacklebolt. Two other pairs of Dogs worked the Nightmarket, but we didn't see them.

I was trying to wave Hedwig off again when Tonks halted. I could see her button nose twitching. "I smell apple-current patties," she announced with a grin before scampering off in the direction of the smell.

Shacklebolt just shook his head and turned to me, "She's a glutton that one and a real scent hound if I ever saw one." he said, his smile a mocking hook at one corner of his mouth.

Following the direction of his errant partner, Shacklebolt led me down the bakers' and spicers' row of the market until he spotted Tonks. Tonks was stopped stead-fast at a stall where assumedly the smell of apple-current patties had come from. I recognised the stall. I don't know anyone who won't swear before all the gods that Madam Rosmerta is the best baker in all of Republic City. And Tonks' luck was in, because Madam Rosmerta herself was minding the trays of baked goods. "Dora, I should have known that you would sniff out my patties!" she said with a laugh. She even reached over the bench and tweaked her nose. "Give me your handkerchief, you little minx. Master Kingsley, how do you fare this good evening?"

"As always, Madam Rosmerta," Shacklebolt said with a shrug. "None of your daughters could take the stall tonight?"

"Not tonight." Madam Rosmerta placed six fat patties, covered in cinnamon and sugar, on Tonks' handkerchief.

Madam Rosmerta looked as she always had to me: plump – but not fat, her black hair with flecks of gray braided, pinned and coiled at the back of her head, light brown eyes, a small nose and straight mouth with plump lips. She wore her usual brown dress under her white cook's apron. Seeing her like a Dog must, I guessed her age to be about fifty now.

She tied Tonks' handkerchief to make a bundle of patties and handed them over. Tonks reached for her purse with a smile and Madam Rosmerta began to frown, put her hands on her hips and drew herself up as tall as she could go.

"As if any Dog in Knockturn paid me for something to get them through to their supper!" she said in a huff. "I'd smack you right proper if I could young miss!"

She turned to look at Shacklebolt. "Youngsters! No notion of what's a gift!"she huffed exasperatedly before the flicked out a slip of cloth that had been washed so often it was almost sheer and settled three patties on it. "That's for you, Kingsley, since I know you're nicer about your handkerchief than this sprite is."

Tonks mumbled something through her mouthful of hot apple and current filling and pastry crumbs.

Shacklebolt just shook his head at Tonks in rueful disdain (He seems to do that a lot) and leaned in and kissed Madam Rosmerta's cheek. "Thank you," he said, his deep voice amused at Tonks' antics. "Don't mind her. She wasn't housebroke when I bought her."

Madam Rosmerta laughed a good hearty chuckle. Then she looked down. "Hedwig, you little princess, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you've run away from Harry. The two of you are usually glued together as if by a sticking charm."

My friend cried, _Look in front of you! _In cat speak. It truly amazes me that she can decide who will understand her and who will not. She's done so since I found her when she was a noisy kitten. At first I had thought that it was yet another aspect of my abnormal magick that seemed to run through my family.

This time I was the only one who understood. Madam Rosmerta only chucked at the cat and offered her some fish paste she'd been using for dumplings she fried at the brazier in the stall. When she straightened from feeding Hedwig she saw me, "Goddess bless me, it _is _little Harry! All grown up and – partnered with you two?" she looked at Shacklebolt and Tonks.

"He's a trainee, not a partner." Shacklebolt smiled, barely. "How'd _you_ get to know her, Madam Rosmerta?"

Out came another worn bit of clean cloth. Madam Rosmerta popped three apple fritters onto it – she knew that they were my favourites, always had been.

"Hey!" quipped Tonks with a pout, "His are bigger."

I grinned at the metamorphmagus and then ducked my head when she scowled at me playfully.

"Well, you'd best take care of him. I've known this little lad all his life, and you couldn't ask for a better-hearted cove," said Madam Rosmerta "I told him he ought to have let me make dumplings out of you, princess, years ago," she told Hedwig as she scratched behind her ears.

Hedwig mewed sweetly and licked Madam Rosmerta's fingers and then looked up at her pleadingly. Rolling my eyes before thinking to her – _You are such a suck-up. Tell me you didn't have a beef supper before I left – _She just mewed at me and licked her chops as Madam Rosmerta gave her an even bigger ball of fish paste.

Shacklebolt asked, "Madam Rosmerta, did you hear about old Crookshanks' great-grandson?"

Madam Rosmerta looked at Shacklebolt with a raised eye-brow and hands on her hips. She knew she was being played for information. Watching the exchange Tonks gave her a shrug, as if to say, He's my partner. What can I do?

Madam Rosmerta busied herself with pressing dough on a small table by the cooking pot. "As if anyone didn't know about that, poor little mite. It's a disgrace, it is, taking a quarrel with the old man into his family. Barbaric. Whoever did it won't last long, breaking the Rouge's law like that."

Tonks grimaced and Shacklebolt sniffed. The Rogue is old and should make way for someone young and strong who could keep order among the city's thieves. Instead he's fixed the Court of the Rogue to keep himself alive. He doesn't look out for the people of Knockturn District anymore, only his chiefs and the folk who add to his treasure chests.

"Aahh!" a mot screamed a stall over as a very poisonous, black snake slithered over her foot towards Madam Rosmerta's stall. Looking about there were a few more snakes were hidden underneath stalls. There was even one near Madam Rosmerta's ankles.

"Aaah! Scat, you nasty things!" screeched Madam Rosmerta when she noticed the snake. She stood up on a foot-stool and grabbed her broom and began to beat the ground near the snake with it, hoping to scare it away. "Harry, go stand somewhere else! I won't have these beasts scaring away my customers!" she shouted.

Seeing the snake Tonks pulled out her wand. "I'll get rid of it for you."

I wasn't sure what made me do it. I knew I would get in trouble with my Dogs for it. Trainees aren't meant to leave their training Dogs' side. To be completely honest, I wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. I just... All I knew was that my legs were carrying me forward before Tonks could curse or kill the snake and I darted forward and scooped up the snake. The little green snake was a young male, excited to meet a speaker and not as cautious as the others who were still hiding under nearby stalls. Even though I would probably get in trouble with my Dogs, I couldn't let the snake get hurt simply because it brought news to me at the wrong time.

"_Be still" _I hissed quietly at the snake as it curled around my wrist like a live bracelet.

Looking up, I saw Madam Rosmerta's grateful face before turning to my Dogs. They were positively glowering. "Puppy, you best be explaining yourself right now," growled Shacklebolt, "Before I decide to curse you instead of the snake."

Scummer, I was _so _dead.

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><p><strong>AN: **Wow, I love how this fanfiction is turning out. Even though it is sort-of a crossover it is actually harder to write than a normal fanfiction where I can make up everything as long as it's reasonable.

I hope you have all liked this chapter of Terrier. I would love to hear your thoughts so please review!

-Marcielle-


	3. Things You Need to Know

**Things You Need to Know:**

_**The Provost's Guard: **_

**Founded: **127 H.E. by His Royal Majesty King Baird III of Hogwarts.

**First Lord Provost: **Padraig of HaMinch (127 H.E. – 143 H.E.)

Use of the terms "Dog," "Puppy," "Growl," "Seek," "Kennel," and other canine related terms in the Auror Guard became popular about fifty years after the founding of the Guard.

_**Four Watches:**_

_**Day Watch: **_nine in the morning until five in the afternoon.

_**Evening Watch: **_five in the afternoon until one in the morning.

_**Night Watch: **_one in the morning until nine in the morning.

_**Fourth Watch: **_covers each of the other three watches on their Court Days and off days.

In most districts, the best Aurors are put on Day and Evening Watch, when there is the most activity on the streets. The slackers are given the Night Watch, when the least amount of activity is going on. The only area that is different is the Knockturn District, where the Day Watch is less active as well. Evening Watch is exceptionally busy there and so is the Night Watch, but while no one will say it, the truth is that the criminals and dark witches and wizards own the streets during the Night Watch. The very worst Aurors have duty then. They are the ones who don't care about their work, are more criminal than Auror and the ones who are regarded as expendable. No one says it but everyone knows it.

_**Districts:**_

Republic City's Watch Districts, interestingly, often correspond to the way the Rougues divide the city for their organisation:

**Palace District**

**Manor District**

**Unicorn District**

**Ministry District**

**Upmarket District**

**Diagon Alley District**

**Hogsmede District**

**Temple District**

**Knockturn District**

Conditions are very different in Knockturn District are very different from all the other districts within Republic City. Since it is the poorest area, the bribes are the lowest and so is the prestige. The death rate of Aurors is the highest because it is also the most violent part of the city. Most of the Aurors assigned there are Aurors who are regarded as not being bright or promising enough to make a good impression elsewhere. However, the top Dogs of Knockturn District are also the most respected because they are good at thinking clearly in high danger situations and are the toughest Aurors in Hogwarts.

_**Chain of Command within the Provost's Aurors:**_

**Lord Provost: **governs the realm's regions and districts

**Vice Provost: **assists the Lord Provost (one per region in Hogwarts)

**Captain: **The District Commander

**Watch Commander: **Different ones within each district for each watch

**Watch Sergeant: **Different ones within each district for each watch

**Corporals: **Varies by district

**Senior Aurors: **Varies by district

**Aurors: **just your average Dog (not that bad/not that good)

**Trainees: **The runts of the litter. Commonly called Puppies and are considered the most likely to die.

_**Training within the Aurors:**_

One year of Auror training school. There is no screening or testing to enter the training program. Trainees (Puppies) are simply required to pass the classes and survive the their first year.

All Aurors are required to attend combat practice (magical and muggle) for their first four years of service. It is expected that if you live that long you can probably defend yourself and therefore no longer need combat practice.

_**Weapons and Law Enforcement:**_

**Primary Weapons: **

Two-foot-long hardwood baton with a lead core

Sap: a handheld lead-filled cylinder, six inches long, with a loop for the wrist; a knockout or bone-breaking weapon (generally used by muggles or those with little magic)

Wand

**The Law and Bribery: **Law enforcement at this time in the realm of Hogwarts is a loose affair, something that is still being created. The Provost's Aurors have a great deal of discretion in whom they arrest. Whether they take bribes and whether they do the thing they are bribed to do. Bribery is the standard way to ensure that the underpaid people who protect merchants (Aurors) remember individuals and at times overlook their behaviour. However, having too much of a history of taking bribes and not following through on them does tend to get an Auror killed. It is wise for an Auror to do what he/she is bribed to do most of the time.

Aurors memorise the laws and rules of the realm that they are taught in training. They learn the rest of their skills on the streets and from one another.

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary<strong>

**Beauxbatons: **country to the south of Hogwarts. Famous for its cultural pursuits (art/music/dance/literature)

**Birdie: **informant

**Black God: **the hooded and robed God of Death (think Grim Reaper outfit on an old guy)

**Black Lake: **Lake on the outskirts of Republic City. Home to mermaids, water nymphs, grindelows, fish, eels ect.

**Bugnob: **a person with little intelligence (small brained/idiot)

**Cages: **the holding cells for Kennel Prisoners

**Canoodling: **sex and sexual activities

**Carthak: **ancient and powerful slaveholding empire

**Chaos, Realms of: **one of the four Realms (Mortal, Divine, Peaceful and Chaos); the one where everything is unending change, destruction and remaking

**Cityman: **any respectable person who is not of the nobility (generally applies to merchants)

**Cove: **boy/man

**Cracknob: **madman (idiot/crazy)

**Cuddy: **slob (mess/ragamuffin)

**Dog: **a member of the Provost's Aurors

**Douse: **to murder, (doused out the life of someone)

**Doxie: **female prostitute and comparison with the annoying magical creature

**Ducknob: **person of low intelligence (idiot/scatterbrained)

**Durmstrang: **the coldcountry to the north and east of Hogwarts, famous for its mountains and forests with rich mineral deposits.

**Dust Spinner: **a being of air and magick, a continuous whirlwind that gathers breezes, conversations, excess/ambient magic, emotions and other bits from its surroundings. (Usually seen at the corners of streets and alleyways)

**Elsewise: **otherwise

**Filcher: **small-time criminal

**Foist: **master pickpocket (you don't even realise you've been pick-pocketed until they're long gone and no evidence is left behind to catch/track them)

**Gauds: **bright, costly things (shortened form of gaudy)

**Gift: **magic that can be taught (unlike old Magick which is inherited abilities passed down through bloodlines)

**Gillyflower: **carnation

**Gixie: **girl

**Glims: **eyes

**Goddess: **the chief goddess of the Hogwartian pantheon, Goddess of the Hunt, Protector of Females (Virgins, those in childbirth ect.) Her symbol is the moon.

**Gorget: **mail plate cover for the neck, like a collar which prevents Aurors/Knights from getting their throat cut/slit

**Happy Bag: **the collection of weekly bribes for the Provost's office (jewels, coins, art, magical objects, anything of value that can be sold for cash)

**Hedgewitch/Hedgewizard: **a worker of small magicks (usually inherited old magick) but not powerful enough to be called a Witch or Wizard let alone a Mage. Usually with little or no formal education (generally tutelage is passed down through the family)

**Hobble: **to tie up or arrest

**Hobbles: **rawhide restraints used on prisoners and detainees

**Hotblood Wine: **wine spiked with an amphetamine-like substance

**Human Era (H.E.): **the time period that began 246 years prior to the present book, marking the end of the Magical/Muggle war and the formation of Republic City.

**Hunkerbones: **haunches

**Jack: **(not the name) a tankard which is often made of leather

**Jinglenob: **empty-headed person

**Kennel: **Provost's Auror-house (the equivalent of a police station)

**Ladymoon: **symbol of the Goddess

**Loaner: **a mocking term for nobles' sale of family heirlooms they buy back when they get more money (a scornful term for a noble)

**Lord Provost: **a nobleman in command of the Provost's Auror Guard throughout the realm of Hogwarts. Most take a personal interest in the Aurors in the capital, Republic City, as well as in the running of the Auror Guard throughout the realm.

**Midden Hen: **a chicken that lives in dung: someone completely crazy

**Minnow: **a very small-time criminal, not worth the trouble to arrest

**Mithros: **the chief god of the Hogwartian pantheon, God of War and the Law. His symbol is the sun.

**Mot: **woman, common-born

**Mumper: **beggar

**Murrain: **plague

**Nob/Noll: **head

**Noble: **(not the people) currency: a large coin in copper or silver (Copper are Knuts, Silver are Sickles, Gold are Galleons)

**Outwalls:** Outwalls Prison, a prison outside the walls of Republic City where prisoners are sent who will be serving long-term sentences

**Patten: **hard wooden shoe, keeps feet out of the mud

**Peaceful Realms: **home of the spirits of the dead; where the souls of the living go to heal from the pains of life

**Puppy: **(not the animal) a trainee in the Provost's Auror Guard

**Puttock: **a low-level female prostitute

**Rat: **a criminal, prey and captive to Dogs (the Aurors)

**Republic City: **the capital city of Hogwarts, on the edges of the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake.

**River Dodgers: **hard men and women who work on and around the docks (shipping, trade, smuggling and slavery)

**Rushers: **thugs, muscle men

**Sarden: **blasted, damned ect.

**Scale: **a fence or receiver of stolen goods

**Scummer: **animal dung

**Scut:** idiot

**Seekings: **investigations; hunts for criminals or missing persons

**Sommat: **something

**Spintry: **male prostitute

**Sutler: **thief who takes goods from shops or vendors' stalls

**Ticklers: **fingers

**Tosspot:** drunkard

**Treats: **reference to Dog Biscuits; bribes

**Trull: **very low-class kind of woman; the dregs

**Twilsey: **a drink made of raspberry or cider vinegar and water


End file.
